


Koteka

by Zinnith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Crack, Gen, Humor, Original Characters - Freeform, Rituals, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinnith/pseuds/Zinnith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>John wondered if there was a standard operating procedure for when one of your officers had been whacked in the face with what was technically an enormous strap-on. If there was one, he'd never heard of it.</i></p><p>The one with the penis gourds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Koteka

**Author's Note:**

> As always, love and cookies for the divine the_cephalopod for the beta!

SGA-13 was widely known as Atlantis' unluckiest team. According to Staff Sergeant Garcia, this was because of their team designation; according to the long-suffering Lieutenant Talbot, it was because all his team members were 'stark raving mad, sir.' At least that was what he told John on the way back to the 'gate on MX1-021.

On their first mission to MX1-021, Lieutenant Talbot and his team had discovered that the natives were worshipping something very similar to a ZPM, ("Or some other phallic-looking Ancient doodad", as Garcia had put it.) However, they could not understand a word the natives were saying, and so had asked for help in the negotiations.

Rodney couldn't suit up fast enough.

When John and his team stepped through the gate on MX1-021, they were met by Lieutenant Talbot, Sergeant Lee and one of the natives. Talbot was sporting a very impressive black eye and Lee was trying hard to keep the grin off his face. But what caught John's attention was the native man's clothing, or rather, his lack of clothing. The only thing he was wearing was a... gourd. A penis gourd. It had red tassels on it. They dangled merrily when he moved.

Rodney tapped John's arm, whispering, "Is that..."

"Yes, Rodney."

"But, I mean, does he..."

"_Yes_, Rodney."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I don't _believe_ this. Of all the worlds that could possibly have a Zed-PM, we have to find it on the Papua New Guinea of the Pegasus galaxy."

The native man said something in a language that made absolutely no sense to John, but Teyla answered in the same language and then said, "This is Gbran. He is the leader of his people."

John smiled and nodded at the man, who did a kind of complicated little bow that should have been physically impossible considering what he was wearing.

"They're friendly, sir," Talbot said. "They invited us to lunch or, well, fried bugs of some kind."

"Really?" John asked. "Friendly? So, what happened to your face, Lieutenant?"

Talbot went bright red and Lee completely failed to contain his mirth. Gbran said something and made some very apologetic gestures.

"It was an accident," Teyla translated. "Apparently, Gbran turned around without watching _where_ he turned, and Lieutenant Talbot was... in the way... so to speak."

"It was my fault, sir," Talbot said quickly.

John wondered if there was a standard operating procedure for when one of your officers had been whacked in the face with what was technically an enormous strap-on. If there was one, he'd never heard of it.

"Okay," he said. Rodney was sniggering beside him and John wished he could whack _Rodney_ in the face. "Let's get on with this."

Teyla conveyed this to Gbran, hopefully in somewhat more diplomatic terms, and the group moved out. John heard Rodney mumble something about 'ultimate cock-slapping' and then Ronon's deep rumble of a laugh. After that he just stopped listening. It seemed like the wisest course of action.

* * *

The village looked like something out of National Geographic. There were gourds _everywhere_. It was actually kind of fascinating. John wondered if they had some kind of social significance – this could be a place where size _did_ matter.

Or perhaps it was just a way for Gbran and his buddies to get an advantage when they were trading with off-worlders. Nothing made a guy feel inadequate like being surrounded by 20-inch long erect fake cocks.

Staff sergeant Garcia, Sergeant Fisher and Dr Hosseini were waiting in the village. Garcia had apparently already made friends with some of the native women, while Fisher and Hosseini had been mostly hanging around looking uncomfortable.

"They keep the artefact in there," Talbot said, pointing towards a big hut in the middle of the village. "Dr Hosseini tried to convince them to let him take a look at it, but they wouldn't let him inside."

Teyla started a long conversation with Gbran, interspersed by wild gestures. Then she turned back to her teammates and explained, "The artefact is holy to them. To be allowed to see it, you must first go through a cleansing ceremony. It is a rite of passage for the males of their people."

"Cleansing ceremony?" Rodney said, the tone of his voice clearly telling what he thought about the idea. "And what exactly does this... _cleansing_ ceremony entail?"

"No one may know but those who have gone through it," Teyla said with a little smile.

"Well, Rodney," John said. "Looks like we're gonna get cleansed."

"No. No way. I am not in _need_ of any cleansing. I showered this morning, I tell you, I am _cleansed_."

"If I hit you, will you stop saying 'cleansing'?" Ronon asked, fingering one of his knives.

Rodney spun around, staring at him. "What? _No!_ Why don't _you_ go through with it if you think it's so funny?"

"He doesn't have the gene," John said helpfully. "There could be something else Ancient in there that'll have to be activated." Truth was he absolutely refused to do this on his own (and John knew he was going to end up having to do it, he _always_ did.) So if John was going to have to go go through with this, then so was Rodney, end of story.

"Lee has the gene."

"Lee was strictly forbidden to be part of ceremonies of any kind after M23-765, remember? When he got that... _thing_ stuck up his..."

Rodney shuddered at the memory and tried, "Well, _Garcia_ has..."

"Garcia is also not _male_, Rodney. Did you forget that little detail? If you want the ZPM, you're gonna have to get cleansed and get in there."

Rodney sighed deeply. "What do you think it's going to be this time?" he asked. "It can't be worse than that time with the foul-smelling gunk and the goat? Or when they doused us in honey and tied us to a tree and left us there over night? Because I'm _not_ doing that again, no way, I still have nightmares about ants."

"Let's find out," John said and turned to Teyla. "Tell him we're doing it."

There was a bark of laughter from Ronon and John cursed the juvenile humour of his teammates. "Not _doing it_ doing it. Tell him we're doing the ceremony."

Teyla had another long conversation with Gbran, who seemed elated at the prospect of the ceremony. John wondered if he should be worried. After a while, Gbran clapped his hands and bellowed something to the rest of the village. He was met by cheer and loud hoots. A group of men came up to John and Rodney, bowed deeply and then disappeared into the hut where the ZPM was supposed to be.

"You must each chose an observer for the cleansing ceremony," Teyla explained to them. "It should be a person whom you trust."

"Ronon," John said quickly. He was not going to embarrass himself in front of the marines.

Rodney gave Teyla a pleading look, but she shook her head. "It cannot be me," she said. "Women are not allowed near the artefact."

Rodney muttered something about misogynistic natives and bellowed, "Hosseini!" At John's curious look, he shrugged and said, "Whatever it is, it's bound to be something deeply embarrassing and at least I can order him to shut up about it."

Dr Fouad Hosseini, the tall Lebanese mechanical engineer, came sauntering over. "You're going to be an observer for a ceremony," Rodney told him. "That means you're just going to observe and not say a word, not now and not later, understood?"

"Can I write about it?" Hosseini asked.

"_No!_ You cannot talk about it, write about it, photograph it, draw pictures of it or perform it as it a musical. All things I wouldn't put past you by the way. You just come with us, watch and then forget about it!"

Hosseini shrugged. "It was worth a shot," he said philosophically. "But I take whatever entertainment I can get."

* * *

John, Rodney, Ronon and Hosseini were led into a smaller hut adjoining the large hut where the holy artefact was kept. Two tribesmen were already there. They motioned Ronon and Hosseini to a couple of seats on the side, where a plate of fruit and several filled bowls were waiting. The snack buffet was apparently not meant for John and Rodney. They were told to stand on the floor in the middle of the hut and then instructed to undress.

"Here we go," Rodney sighed. "I hope there won't be body painting this time. I think I was allergic to that stuff they smeared on us before the goat-thing."

They undressed and John made sure their vests and weapons were passed out to Teyla so she could keep an eye on them. Ronon and Hosseini sat stretched out in their seats, carefully sampling the food. They seemed to be quite comfortable.

John didn't feel comfortable at all, standing naked on the earth floor. His only comfort was that Rodney looked even more awkward with his broad shoulders hunched in on himself and his hands in front of his groin. John wondered what would come next and immediately got the answer to his question when one of the native men poured a bucket of very cold water over him.

The floor was quickly becoming a puddle of mud. John wriggled his toes. This was not turning out to be one of his better days. Beside him, Rodney looked like a drenched pink rat. "Wonderful," he muttered. "Now I'm liable to get pneumonia on top of everything. If this isn't a fully loaded Zed-PM..."

"At least there's no goat," John said. In situations like this, you had to focus on the positive things.

"Yet!" Rodney shot back, shivering.

But it was hard to stay positive through the next part of the ceremony when the two tribesmen presented them with their very own traditional clothing.

"No!" Rodney protested. "No, no, no. I am _not_ wearing that!"

"ZPM, Rodney," John whispered through clenched teeth.

Ronon and Hosseini were grinning madly and John briefly regretted his choice of observer. You could say what you wanted about marines, but at least they knew when to keep a straight face.

Their gourds were both longer and more decorated than the natives'. John's was dark red with tiny little seashells and beads all around it. Rodney's had honest-to-god _bells_ on it. They were held in position with strings to be tied in all kinds of uncomfortable places.

"So," Hosseini said conversationally to Ronon. "Did I tell you about my lab space? It's not nearly big enough."

"I heard that!" Rodney hissed. The bells jingled.

John decided that the next time, it was definitely Teyla and Ronon's turn to take care of the ceremonies.

* * *

It was a ZPM. John had never been so thankful for anything in his life. It was sitting on some kind of primitive altar, surrounded by flowers and bowls of food.

"At least we didn't do all this for nothing." John said.

Rodney was studying his handheld scanner. He reached out and tapped the ZPM. Then he looked at the scanner again.

"Rodney? Tell me we didn't do all this for nothing," John said. He probably sounded a lot more pleading than he should have.

Rodney sighed and lowered the scanner. "I can't," he said dejectedly. "It's depleted."

"Are you sure?"

"No, Colonel, I just told you that because I _enjoy_ standing here dressed in nothing but a gigantic phallocrypt!"

This was so not one of John's better days. He took a little comfort in the fact that no one had witnessed their humiliation but Ronon and Hosseini, both of whom could probably be bribed. "Let's go back and get out of these things," he said.

Rodney turned around, a little too quickly and his gourd hit John on the ass. "Sorry! I didn't mean to do that, I swear!"

John rubbed the rising welt. It was going to leave a very interesting bruise. Maybe he could claim he'd got it stick-fighting with Teyla? "At least it can't get much _worse_," he muttered to himself.

* * *

"Where are our clothes?" John asked in his most patient voice.

Ronon popped a piece of fruit into his mouth and gestured to the tribesmen. "They burned 'em," he said.

"They did _what_?" Rodney's face was almost purple. "You... you... why didn't you _stop_ them?"

"We discussed that," Hosseini said, nodding to Ronon. "But after Sergeant Lee's little...mishap, we were given clear instructions not to interfere in any ceremonies so we decided, as long as no one's life was in danger, it was best to let them have their way."

"It made sense," Ronon agreed.

It was one big conspiracy. It _had_ to be. If John got to decide, SGA-13 was not going off-world again _ever_. It always ended in disaster, and they dragged everyone else down with them.

"Hosseini, give me your pants," Rodney demanded.

"Do I get my lab space?"

"No, you don't! Give me your pants!"

Despite being six foot four with a sharp eagle-nose, Hosseini could look very innocent when he wanted to. "I think this is sexual harassment," he said. "I will take it up with Dr Zelenka. Or Dr Weir. Yes, that would probably be the best."

Rodney stormed out.

* * *

The walk back to the 'gate was... interesting. John spent most of the time plotting how to best exact vengeance on Ronon and possibly steal his pants. Talbot had already confiscated Lee's camera and was keeping a close eye on the rest of his team, something for which John was very grateful. The last thing he needed was pictures of Atlantis' military leader in this garb popping up all over the city.

Teyla and Garcia had their heads together, giggling and whispering. From what John could hear, they might be rating his ass. He decided that the best way to maintain some shred of dignity was to stare straight ahead and pretend these things happened to him every day. Sadly, it was not so far away from the truth.

"Watch where you point that thing, McKay," Ronon said behind John.

"Yeah, you could poke someone's eye out," Garcia added cheekily.

John heard Talbot mutter something about kitchen duty that would last forever. Well, at least _something_ good might come out of the whole ordeal. Garcia made a mean lasagne.

Rodney jingled all the way to the 'gate.

\- fin -


End file.
